


Here We Are

by werebear (rhien), werebear



Category: Alice (2009)
Genre: Alternate Scene, F/M, Fic of Fic, Remix, amnesia!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhien/pseuds/werebear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebear/pseuds/werebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate scene for Nocturnal_Elle's lovely fic, "There You Are." (Quick! Go read it first!) Fits into chapter six.<br/>**</p><p>He kept kissing her, brokenly, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking in the breaths between. “It’s just,” he bit lightly at her ear, “like coming into the middle of the story,” trailed his mouth down her neck, “and it’s a great story, I can tell already,” nosed the thin strap of her tank top over and drew his tongue along her collarbone, “it just makes me want…." </p><p>“I’ll show you,” she said, her voice determined, the kind of voice that could depose a queen. “I won’t let it take you away from me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nocturnal_Elle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal_Elle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [There You Are](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124730) by [Nocturnal_Elle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal_Elle/pseuds/Nocturnal_Elle). 



He was kissing _Alice_.

His _wife_ , Alice.

He pushed up on an elbow for more leverage and was pleased when she took the opportunity to maneuver beneath him.

She was warm and soft and when his tongue slipped into her mouth, her hand trailed up his side under his shirt.

Her skin next to his felt _amazing_. Nerve endings came alive, and he had to break the kiss to breathe.

He gave a laugh of surprise and leaned his forehead down to hers. "So are you just, um, trying to jog my memory?"

She smiled up at him. "You think that'd work?"

Her hands were on his sides, tracing patterns. He found the movements both comforting and exhilarating. "I'm willing to experiment if you are," he said.

She leaned up and kissed him again, quickly. Instead of focusing on his lips, she moved to his neck. Kissing a trail along his jaw and then spending more time on his pulse point. It was… effective.

It made him nervous. He didn’t know how to touch _her_.

“You’re, ah, quite efficient at that,” he said.

"You may not remember, but we've done this lots of times," Alice assured him. Her voice was so affectionate, he couldn’t help smiling, pulling back, touching her cheek.

 _You have me at a disadvantage,_ he thought, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to say that aloud. He wasn’t sure exactly how much he cared about that. Because it was _Alice_ , and the thought of not kissing her, finally, finally, well…. It felt like the time before, in Wonderland. He remembered soft sunlight and the smell of trees, leaning in toward her… But now she was here, and he was here, and there were no inconvenient princes to interrupt, and maybe his luck was changing…

As if on cue, there was a noise, fussing, crying, from the hall. They froze for a second, listening. Alice laughed ruefully, but then anxiety passed briefly across her face.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s—it’s Robert. He’s been waking up at night lately. Just takes a few minutes to settle him back, but he’s usually… wanting his dad. It’s okay though,” she started to sit up, “I can get him this time.”

“No, no,” Hatter said, pushing on her shoulder. He kissed her forehead. “I’ll do it.” He slid out of bed, tugged his shirt back into place and grinned. “Just—stay there. Stay right there, okay?” He went out the door, then poked his head back around the frame. “Don’t move.”

He left behind Alice’s chuckling and followed the sound of sniffling cries, to the door past the bathroom where he’d supervised tooth cleaning earlier.

“Hey buddy, it’s okay.” The glow of the nightlight in the wall let him cross the floor without tripping over the scatter of blocks and cars. He sat on the edge of the bed and touched Robert’s arm.

“Daddy.” It was half a sob, half a whine, and the boy sat up and clung to him. “I had a b-bad dream.”

“Hey,” Hatter said again, and stroked the feathery brown hair. He wasn’t sure what else to say, felt badly that he didn’t even know if he had any proper nicknames for them. He did remember having nightmares himself, as a child. “It’s all right, I’m here.” Robert’s small hands were damp and clinging, but his crying was mostly just hitching breaths already. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It was dark and I couldn’t find you or Mommy or Charlie anywhere,” he said, face still pushed into Hatter’s side.

Hatter felt at a loss, but said, “That sounds like no fun,” and continued petting his head as the sniffling subsided.

“Daddy, I don’t want to go back to sleep,” Robert said, though his eyelids were drooping.

Hatter nodded. He remembered – as a kid, after waking, that sense of sliding back down into the dark hole of the nightmare when he closed his eyes, but being too tired to prevent it. “Want me to sing you a song, love?”

Robert nodded. So Hatter half-sang a little tune, part of one his mother used to sing to him in the evenings. Not the part about the sword and fighting the monsters, just the end, _callooh callay_ , and _come to my arms, my beamish boy_.

“I know that song. You sing it a lot,” Robert said. His little voice was slurry and sleepy.

 _Do I?_ “Well, it’s a good song,” Hatter said. His eye caught motion by the door, and he looked: Alice, leaning on the frame, with a _look_ on her face. A complicated look, not bad, but… Hatter took a moment to faux-pout at her, mouthed: _You moved._ She rolled her eyes and smiled, and he looked back at their boy, nodding off against him.

Hatter moved his head back onto his pillow and pulled the sheets up around him. Robert stirred slightly, saying, “Am I your beamish boy?”

“‘Course you are.”

“’Kay.” It was mostly an exhale, and Hatter waited a few more seconds before brushing the hair off his cool forehead and standing.

Alice took his hand and pulled him back into the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“We,” she said, kissing him hard, “are going to be okay.”

“Yes’m,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around him, around his neck, and squeezed, pushing her face into the side of his neck. He hugged her back, and felt like someone had pulled a plug, like all the fear and tension was draining, down and out the soles of his feet. “Finally,” he whispered.

Alice gave a half laugh and pulled back, looking into his face. “That’s the first thing you said to me when I saw you again.”

“Really?”

She nodded and touched his cheek. “It had been maybe a day for me. But there you were, and I just ran over and grabbed you….” She smiled, and it was only a little tremulous. “You told me later that I hugged you like it had been months for me, too.”

He remembered the last time he had seen her, before all this crazy memory-loss nonsense, remembered seeing her step up to the surface of the Looking Glass. Remembered the clench in his stomach, the thought of _wait, I’m not ready_ flashing desperately across his mind. But then she was gone, and she had taken his stomach, his heart, pretty much every internal organ… and he knew he had to go, too.

_And I guess I did._

He let her press him down against the bed again, his hands sliding around to the small of her back.

“So,” he said, “what are the chances of being interrupted by another nightmare?”

“Slim,” she answered, kissing along his jaw. He could feel the smile on her lips. “It’s usually only once in a night.”

“Mmm, well, that’d be nice. Bit awkward, interruptions.”

“I’m not worried,” she said, grinning. “You’re the king of awkward, really.”

“Me? Well, I never.” He clutched at his chest dramatically.

“Never? Does ‘hell no!’ ring any bells?”

He groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “I cannot _believe_ I said that,” he said, voice muffled.

“Sorry,” she smiled, stroking his head. “We just laugh about it now. It was a while ago, for me.”

He nodded, suddenly sobering again. _Ten years…_. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t. But.

“Hatter? What is it?”

“Alice… what if I don’t—what if I never….”

“Hush.” She kissed him again, and it was fierce, possessive even. Heat surged in him, and suddenly his reservations before seemed silly, because even if he’d never done this before _(didn’t remember doing it)_ , he would never hurt her, because she would never let him, she would always guide him along just by being Alice, like she had in Wonderland, and why would that change just because they were on this side? So he pulled her against him, the whole soft-and-firm length of her, and rolled them. She let out a soft huff of breath, almost a laugh, then bit into his mouth again and shimmied her hips, aligning them with his and _pressing_ up, and oh god, he had to breathe for a second.

He kept kissing her, brokenly, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking in the breaths between. “It’s just,” he bit lightly at her ear, “like coming into the middle of the story,” trailed his mouth down her neck, “and it’s a great story, I can tell already,” nosed the thin strap of her tank top over and drew his tongue along her collarbone, “it just makes me want….”

“I’ll tell you,” she said. Her breathing was shaky. “If I have to.” She was working his flannel pants off his hips with both hands, pushing them down off him with her knees. They both sat up enough to peel one another’s shirts off, and he just couldn’t believe he was allowed to do this—that if her fumbling hands were any indication, the only thing she really wanted was for him to do it faster. Even in the dim light, the sight of her (slope of her shoulders, soft belly and hips, the curve of her breasts, all that _skin)_ was interfering with his breathing yet again. He ran a hand over the curl of her shoulder, down her back and around her waist, feeling light-headed.

Alice moved closer, pulling on his shoulders, then running a hand through his hair. “I’ll show you,” she said, her voice determined, the kind of voice that could depose a queen. “I won’t let it take you away from me.”

“It won’t. I won’t go.” He pressed his forehead into hers and closed his eyes. Wonderland, taking things. In his mind, he heard the rumble of a building shaking, felt a gun in his hand, saw her, dark hair bent over the father she’d searched for for so long, the father they’d both been too late to save. He pushed the images away, but still said, “I’m sorry.”

Her hands slid onto his face, and he opened his eyes, looking into hers. “It’s not your fault.” Her voice was quiet, and absolutely certain. He nodded slowly.

She was looking at him softly, carefully. “You know, we don’t have to.”

His eyes flicked back up to her face. “I know. I mean, if you don’t—”

“ _I_ do.” She put a hand on his face, her thumb skimming over his cheekbone. “I definitely do.”

It felt like sparklers in his stomach, a thrill tingling out to all his nerve endings, and he made a small, embarrassingly squeaky noise, and couldn’t quite bring himself to care. “How convenient,” _oh god, she was so right, the king of awkward right here,_ “I do, too.”

Alice laughed, and just kissed him. _Just._ Like the first time again, soft and affectionate, and then heating till his head was spinning and he couldn’t quite remember how they ended up lying down again, her hands holding his face, bare skin pressed together, his hands just everywhere.

**

It wasn’t that Alice had forgotten how amazing just kissing could be, but they _had_ been married for years now. She was a big fan of pecks on the cheek, of fleeting, casual, take-it-for-granted kisses, too. She liked being able to take it for granted, sometimes. But this was a more than welcome reminder, their lips brushing softly, the tiny hesitancies, the way his breath caught. It made hers do the same, as if prompting, as if caught in a loop.

For a few minutes, Alice wondered if she had actually kissed her husband senseless, but eventually he cocked his head at her and asked, “How should we….”

“Well, first—” she rolled off him, he groaned a complaint but she paid him no heed as she scrabbled with the bedside table and came back with a small towel, for after, and a plastic bottle. “A little extra lubrication never hurt anyone.”

He seemed to note the absence of something. “Are we, um, trying for more kids?”

She smiled. “Not at present. It’s all sorted though, don’t worry.”

He just nodded and for a second she had a little trouble breathing—that he could just accept her word like this, for everything really. And this was like their first time, well, his first time, again, and for just a moment she thought, maybe we should wait, maybe…. But no. Her heart felt tight with fondness, and so much more than fondness. They would be okay. And if he was content to let her take the lead for now, well, that wasn’t so unfamiliar either, was it.

Part of her wanted to draw this out, take all night. Except the kids wouldn’t sleep in just because Mom and Dad were tired, and there was work, and…. _No getting distracted, Alice,_ she told herself, and clicked open the bottle.

“Would you like to? Or I can.”

Hatter blinked like his brain was trying to reboot for a second.

She wanted to laugh, but kissed him instead. “Too hard of a decision, hmm?”

“Far too difficult,” he said.

“All right,” she said, and took his hand, squeezing some lube onto his fingers, then tugged it gently down between her thighs. His fingers were just as gentle.

“Doesn’t really seem that necessary,” he said after a moment, sounding slightly choked.

“Maybe not,” she agreed. “Just being prepared and all.”

“Prepared for what, precisely?”

“How about this?” She knelt up and swung a leg over him, but then returned to just kissing him, his lips, then down his neck, enjoying his sound of surprise and then his hands, running over her shoulders and back.

 _“Alice,”_ he said, after a time, almost pitifully.

“Come here,” she said, and pulled on his shoulders and scooted till he was sitting up, her still kneeling, straddling him. Then she sank down onto him, slowly, sank him into her, and they both gasped a little, and more when he rocked her toward him after a moment, and bent his head to kiss her breast.

“Mmm… you could do that again.”

“Yes’m,” he teased, tone and tongue, and then teased with just his tongue.

It wasn’t as though he magically knew all the perfect places to touch her. But it didn’t matter, because every breath and kiss was practically electric. Practically radiated love. Her skin felt fevered with warmth, with his gentle hands, with affection.

Everything felt wonderful, though the angle wasn’t quite right for her, and suddenly she just wanted his weight on her, pressing her down, and she moved to lie them down, roll them over. They couldn’t quite keep connected through it, but she just laughed and resettled her hair so that it wouldn’t get caught, and he pushed into her again and it was so _good,_ pressing her breath (and a moan) out of her perfectly.

His hands were caught up in her hair, and his kisses moved from her face to her breasts and back, as if he couldn’t possibly choose just one, which was more than fine with her. He thrust into her, watching her expression, and asked, “What should I… I mean, can you… just like this?”

She wanted to grin. “Sometimes,” she said. It had taken a fair amount of practice though, early on, they’d have to see…. She gripped his hips and pulled him in close, closer, pressing in small circles, almost no space between them at all, mortar and pestle, and the friction sparked in her belly, and all up her spine, starting to build.

Apparently it did the same for Hatter, because after a minute he said, “Wait, wait.” He stilled for a moment, a little twitchy, biting his lip, holding back.

“All right.” She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She wanted to just _hug_ him, even though that seemed a bit silly, given their position at the moment. They both held very still, till she couldn’t stand it anymore, and kissed him again. And maybe rolled her pelvis just a bit.

He made a sound that was half-whimper, half-laugh. “Wicked thing,” he said, and she just half-laughed back, and did it again.

They pressed on, slower, faster, shifting now and then, and it was so good, every second of it, warm and lovely and full, now with his breath in her ear and against her cheek, now pulling back with his eyes on her face, and for a few erratic kisses. They hadn’t had this much eye contact during sex in a long time, but it just seemed…. The build of her orgasm was there, but slow, ebbing back occasionally; good but not that close, not yet.

She thought of shifting, of slipping a hand between them, but then she heard his breathing accelerate, saw his face change and twist a little.

“Alice, I….” She could tell how close he was, and she just didn’t want to pause this time, so she didn’t, just hooked a leg around his, pulled on his waist and hips. He groaned and buried his face in her shoulder, shaking as he came, and it wasn’t really their norm, but she went ahead and whispered, _love, my love,_ right into his ear.

After a few moments he eased out of her, and off to one side so she could breathe. She kissed him, deep, but undemanding, and then watched him, just enjoying: his heaving breaths, the racing pulse she could almost feel, the sheen of sweat on his face and chest. She ran her fingernails, softly, over his shoulders (the way he liked—cheating, she knew—insider information), and he shivered all down his body. Her own skin was still prickly-sensitive, and she was still warm and throbbing between her legs, but it would keep for now.

“Sorry,” he tried to begin, but she kissed him quiet again.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.”

 _Fine_. She stopped, tucking her head down.

“Alice?”

She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to burden him with it. But he’d already noticed, was trying to shift slightly to see her face.

That wasn’t how they worked anyway.

So she lifted her chin herself and met his eyes.

“You _will_ be fine.” One way or another.

He nodded, holding her gaze, and she said slowly, “I’m still a little afraid about it.”

He nodded again.

“Feels like I shouldn’t admit it.”

He smiled. “It’s all right to admit it to me.”

“I know.” And she did.

They lay, just breathing for a moment, Hatter’s hand tracing lightly over her side. He never could seem to stop touching at this point, and it made her smile through a small yawn. Late, she thought. Maybe we should just sleep. But…. Bah, the eternal question. She shifted her hips a little and Hatter looked up at her.

“But….” He frowned a little. “You didn’t….”

The sight of that unhappy frown helped make up her mind. “Hey, don’t look like that,” she said. “We don’t have to be done yet.”

He lifted an eyebrow, and she could see the start of a grin. “No?”

“Definitely not.”

She maneuvered them slightly—her onto her back, one arm hooked under and around him, where she could stroke his back, his shoulders, even his hair. He leaned on one elbow, his forearm went under her neck, and she drew his free hand over, onto her, into her, guiding him with a light touch on the wrist. “This is good, too, you know.”

“Is it, now.” He kissed her: mouth, throat, breast, and she let herself whimper a bit.

“Yes. Well. A little higher, and just… oh.” Her thighs were tightening already. God, he always had been good at this. “Definitely good,” she managed, and his mouth was too busy to answer, but she could feel his lips smiling. The sound of his eager hum against her skin made heat coil in her belly, made her hand clench in his hair. Right there, a little more… she thought. Then her head tipped back against the pillow, and she couldn’t think at all.

“Well,” he said at last, lightly, when her heart had finally stopped trying to race out of her chest. “I guess the kiss didn’t break the spell.”

“I guess not.”

“Yeah, nor did all the— _oof_.” Alice mustered the energy to elbow him, laughing, and snagged the towel, cleaning up a little. “I suppose,” he said, with an overly-resigned sigh, “we’ll just _have_ to try again later.”

“If at first you don’t succeed?”

“Exactly. I’m so pleased you’re on board with this.”

She laughed again, softly, and rolled toward him till their foreheads touched, their ankles still tangled. She held one of his hands in both of hers, while his other stroked her side, tingling and soothing, both at once.

“Always on board. With all of this.”

He touched her cheek. “Likewise.”

She smiled, squeezed his hand, suppressed a yawn. Late.

Hatter’s hand paused in its trail up and down. “Oh. Um. Sleeping. Which is your side of the bed, anyway?”

She waved a hand expansively, over and behind herself. “This.” Then toward him. “That’s yours.”

Dutifully, he craned his neck, looking behind him. “All the way over there?” he asked. “Seems pretty far. How do you feel about the middle?”

Alice pretended to think about it. “I’m amenable if I get to be the big spoon.”

“Deal,” he said.

They re-arranged, and Alice molded herself to his back. Her hand was on his chest, and he pulled it up to kiss her fingers.

As their breathing settled, she squeezed his hand, tightened her grip. Refusing to let him go.

 


End file.
